Senior Prom
by dee768nj
Summary: Complete! The Burg is holding its annual "Senior" Prom and Grandma has roped Stephanie into chaperoning. Steph doesn't want a date, but Grandma and Mrs. Plum are determined to fix her up. Warning for a little angst and smut in later chapters. Babe story.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Written in response to challenges on pp, May-July 2008, before I started Dusk & Summer. The story went where the challenges led it, so it's not always consistent and it changes direction several times._

_Disclaimer: Not my characters, not making any money._

_WARNING: It starts light but ends up heavy. A little angst and some smut coming up eventually, but guaranteed HEA because this is, after all, me._

_oOo  
_

**Senior Prom**

By Dee

1

Everyone was getting crazy excited about the prom. Everyone, that is, except me.

"So Stephanie, which one of those hot guys in your life are you going to ask to be your escort for the prom? I'm sure Joseph would be more than happy to take you."

Yeah, right. "Grandma, Joe hates to dance and he looks like a casino pit boss in a suit. There's no way he's going to put on a tux just to go to your prom." Besides, Joe and I had a humdinger of a fight last week, complete with waving arms, shouting, and stomping away. We still weren't speaking.

The second annual "Senior" Prom was just a week away, and Grandma was already driving me insane. She had a date, a dress, a corsage on order, condoms in multiple sizes, colors and flavors, and her usual case of hot and heavy Hungarian hormones.

"Well how about that bounty hunter with the nice package? I bet he dances just like Patrick Swayze in that dirty dancing movie. Them Cubans all got rhythm." Grandma leered at me. "I'm sure he's great at the horizontal hula, if you know what I mean."

Uh-huh, I could testify to that, although not lately. And not something I wanted to think about right now. Or ever. "Ranger's out of town. I don't know where he is or when he'll be back."

Oh, dear Lord. How the hell had I ever gotten roped into being a "chaperon" for the seniors? It's not like they were high school kids and needed someone to keep them out of trouble. Although knowing Grandma… Oh, yeah, that's how I got enlisted. Mom knew Grandma far too well and thought I could keep her in line.

Not in this lifetime.

Grandma was unrelenting. "Well, how about Diesel? He's single, right? And those dimples are really cute. And he looks to have an awesome package, too… Gets me all warm in funny places just thinking about it. None of those old farts I date are anywhere near that well-equipped, and most of their equipment don't even work."

Eeuw… Too much information. "Grandma, I haven't see Diesel in quite a while." I was steadfast in my refusal to think about the look in his eye and his hand on my ass just before he disappeared the last time. He was hot, but my life was complicated enough without getting involved with an Unmentionable to confuse me even further.

I shook thoughts of Diesel out of my head. "Anyway, I don't have any idea where he is. I couldn't just call him up out of the blue and invite him to the dance."

"So who are you going to ask?" With her head cocked to the side and her eyes bright with curiosity, Grandma looked like a terrier. A pit bull.

"I think I'll just go stag. I'm going to be serving refreshments, anyway, so I'll be too busy to dance."

Grandma frowned and shook her head at me. "No, I can't let you go alone. No granddaughter of mine is going to the prom without a date. That's just plain humiliating." She brightened. "I'll talk with your mother. She always hears when guys in the Burg get divorced and are up for grabs again. She'll find someone to fix you up with."

Yikes! "No, no, Grandma, please don't talk to Mom about it. I really don't want to go with anyone from the Burg. I'd much rather go alone." I'd much rather slit my throat with a butter knife.

It was obvious from her face that Grandma just couldn't understand why I wouldn't want a date. I kept talking. "You see, I've already got too many men in my life. I need a break from them all."

It was true. Joe wanted to marry me and knock me up with hoardes of Italian bambinos, Ranger wanted to… well, everyone in Trenton knew what Ranger wanted to do with me, and Diesel wasn't even an option.

"Well, think about it. Maybe Ranger will come back before Saturday night." Grandma pulled a large, plain brown shopping bag out from behind a chair. "Now, Lorraine Shlein drove me over to Pleasure Treasures because Caroline got in a whole bunch of new merchandise. I've got some questions for you." She dumped the contents of the bag onto the sofa.

Oh… my… God…

"Sorry, Grandma, I have no answers for you right now. And I'm late. Catch you later." And I made my escape.

_TBC_


	2. Chapter 2

**Senior Prom 2**

Even my mom was excited about the prom.

"Stephanie, this is your mother." Yeah, right, as if I couldn't tell from the caller ID or the "Drunk Again" ringtone, a little-known Everclear song from my high school days. Or the fact that she'd been calling me on the phone five times a day for the past three years, ever since I lost my job at E.E. Martin and became a bounty hunter.

"Hi, Mom. What's up?"

"Can you come to dinner tonight? We're having roast turkey breast with stuffing and gravy and mashed potatoes."

Mmm, sounded really good. My mom may be a pain in the ass sometimes, but she could roast the hell out of a turkey breast, and her stuffing would heal the lame and cause the blind to see.

There has to be a catch.

"I'm not sure, Mom. I'm working and I might not be done in time."

"The pineapple upside down cake is in the oven, and I bought a whole pint of cream to whip for it, so there will be lots of extra."

Man, that woman sure knows how to lead the rats to Hamelin. The Pied Piper has nothing on her.

"Okay, I'll be there."

"Six o'clock." As if I didn't know. "And Stephanie, I was hoping you could stay for a little while after dinner. I need some help picking out accessories for my prom dress, and your grandmother… well, you know how she is. I could really use your input."

Even Mom and Dad were going to the big dance. Although they weren't technically seniors, the prom was open to all the adults of the Burg, and the middle-aged crowd had gotten into the spirit of things right along with their senior parents.

"No problem. See you at six."

Mom and Grandma were both waiting at the front door when I pulled up in front of the house at five minutes of six. Since they were expecting me it didn't seem that unusual that they'd be there waiting. What really freaked me out was when I stopped by unexpectedly and there they'd be, waiting at the door.

I used to think it was some kind of Mom radar that called to them when a female progeny was approaching. Now I just think Grandma sits where she can see every car that comes down the street and when she sees mine approaching she alerts Mom. Just as freaky as the radar thing, but more explainable.

"Do you have your dress for the prom yet?" Grandma asked, grabbing my arm and guiding me into the house. "Did you get something really sizzling? Because I told Ernie that you're the spitting image of me when I was your age, and he's waiting to get an eyeful."

Tell me my grandmother wasn't using me to raise the excitement level in her elderly date. Please.

"Oh, I'm not getting something new. I thought I'd wear the dress I wore to Julie Morelli's wedding." The cleaner did a fine job at getting all the garbage stains out. I felt no need to spend money on a new dress to stand and serve cups of punch to parents and grandparents. Besides, I was broke.

"Oh, you really need to get something new. Everybody who's anybody will be there, and they all saw you in that dress before. Who knows, you might find someone there to take home for the night and it just wouldn't do to be wearing an old dress."

"Mother!" My mom glanced longingly at the kitchen door, thinking, no doubt, of the bottle of Jack Daniels that was hidden in the very back of the cupboard, behind the flour and cereal.

While this conversation was going on, Grandma guided me into the living room rather than into the kitchen to help put the food on the table. I was a little confused, but smiled when my dad turned from the TV to say hello.

"Hi, Dad. How about those Phillies?"

"Hi, Pumpkin. They're doing great, aren't they?" And then his eyes slid past me to the couch.

I turned and almost fell over at the sight that greeted me.

"Stephanie, you remember Stanley Holloway, don't you?" My mom stood behind me, her arms out to the sides blocking the doorway as I cast a wild look in that direction. "He graduated with Valerie, so I'm sure you know him from high school."

Oh, crap. Skeeter Holloway. How the hell…?

My grandmother still had my arm, and Mom had suddenly grown to the size of an offensive lineman, ready to squash me like a bug if I tried to get past her out the door.

"Hi, Skeeter," I said, baring my teeth in something that I hoped resembled a smile. "How's it going?"

"It's going very well, Steph," he oozed, "especially now that you're here."

Eeuw!

Skeeter was the Vinnie Plum of my high school years, slimy and skeevy, generally creepy.

"I'm sure you two have a lot of catching up to do," Mom butted in, "and dinner's not ready yet, so sit down, Stephanie."

I was in deep doo-doo. Never, ever in my thirty-three years could I remember dinner being ready a moment later than six o'clock on the dot.

My dad frowned, looking at his watch. This was clearly a plot by my mother and grandmother to fix me up, and just as clearly, Dad wasn't in on it.

Grandma was clinging to me like a limpet, her full weight on my arm pulling me down to the couch next to Skeeter. I only resisted for a moment before giving up and sitting down. I didn't want to hurt Grandma. Kill her maybe…

Skeeter poured a glass of wine from the bottle that was sitting on the coffee table. "Take a drink, sit back and relax," he said, handing me the glass.

I was stupefied, unable to cope with this Bizarro World turn of events, and I took a page from my mom's book and knocked back the whole glass of wine in one gigantic gulp.

_TBC_


	3. Chapter 3

**Senior Prom 3**

"Get a load of Stanley's package," Grandma muttered sotto voce, holding my arm again as we walked into the dining room for dinner. "It looks to me like he could give that bounty hunter a run for his money."

"Grandma, hush," I hissed. "He'll hear you."

Of course my eyes immediately flew to the aforementioned package. Can you say holy cannoli? It was hugged by perfectly tailored gray dress slacks and I dragged my gaze upward by sheer force of will, taking in a form-fitting white dress shirt and a tasteful tie in a small red print over a flat stomach and what looked to be a well-muscled chest. Wow, Skeeter had really filled out since high school.

I finally got up to his face and blushed to see the small, satisfied smile he was giving me as he held my chair.

"So, uh, Skeeter," I babbled, doing a quick drool check and trying desperately to get my mind off that body. Where the hell did the creepy sleaze go? "What are you doing these days?"

"You know, Steph, nobody's called me Skeeter in years, since I got out of high school. It's Stan now."

"Okay, Stan, what are you doing these days?" I sank into my chair and he pushed me in toward the table and took the seat next to me, turning to give me a look of surprising intelligence. I guess Skeeter isn't so skeevy anymore.

"I'm a senior research scientist for the bionics division of Virilux Industries in Princeton."

"Huh? Did you say bionics?" Brilliant, Steph, just dazzle him with your scintillating wit.

"Bionics is the medical application of technology to mimic biological functions in the human body, or even surpass them."

"Uh-huh." I nodded knowingly and took a big gulp of wine as soon as my mom finished pouring. If I have to be baffled with bullshit here, the least I can do is get a bit of a buzz on. "Like Steve Austin, the bionic man? Darth Vadar? Robo-Cop?"

Stanley nodded. "Exactly. They're all examples of applications of bionics, and the type of research my department does. It's a rapidly progressing field, and there are endless possibilities for extending human life and improving its quality."

He looked around the table at the open mouths, the glazed eyes, and changed the subject, smiling. "So Steph, I know a little bit about you from what I've read in the newspaper. You're a bounty hunter, right?"

At my nod he began to ask questions, surprisingly perceptive ones, about my job. As I told him about some of my skips, Stan laughed in all the right places and for some reason I felt bright and witty

"I worry about Stephanie all the time," my mother interjected. "I'm so afraid one of those criminals she tries to bring in is going to hurt her. Is your company hiring?"

"It sounds to me like Steph has mastered the art of bounty hunting. You know, Mrs. Plum, Lao Tzu said mastering others is strength. Mastering yourself makes you fearless," Stan replied with an enigmatic smile.

Wow. Not only was Stan smart, he was defending my career choice to my mother. I was dazzled. Of course the wine wasn't doing any harm, either.

I found out Stan was recently divorced, although he'd been separated for several years. He'd married his college sweetheart from Princeton and had a six-year-old son that visited him every other weekend. His face glowed as he talked about him.

"Zach just finished kindergarten, but the way he talks sometimes you'd swear he's about to graduate high school," Stan told me, beaming with pride. "He played T-ball this spring and I helped coach his team. He puts his whole heart into everything he does."

"Sounds like a great kid," I answered, responding to Stan's affectionate smile with a smile of my own. I should have been panicking and sneaking out the back door, but I just reached for my wine and finished off the third glass.

When my mom served the pineapple upside down cake, I watched Stan take a bite, and his eyes closed. "Mmm," he almost moaned, savoring the taste. "Mrs. Plum," he said when he'd swallowed, "this is the best pineapple upside down cake I've ever had. And one of the best dinners, too. Thank you so much for inviting me."

Omigod, a man who moans over dessert! I think I've met my soulmate! But that could be the wine talking, too.

As I stood up from the table after dinner, a bout of lightheadedness struck me, making me sway.

"Whoa," I said, finding myself against a solid, muscled chest, two carved-granite arms holding me upright. "Sorry, Stan. I'm not very good at holding my wine."

"Steph, sweetie," Stan said, "I'm not sure you should be driving home. Let me take you, and if you need a ride in the morning I can pick you up before work and drop you off here to get your car."

Wow, what a thoughtful guy. But wait, I promised my mom I'd help her choose her accessories for the prom. "That's really nice of you, Stan, but I need to stay and help Mom with her prom stuff."

"No, Stephanie," my mom butted in. "You don't need to stay after all. I tried everything on this afternoon after I talked to you and I'm all set."

So that's how I ended up in the passenger seat of Stan's black Aston Martin DB9 convertible. After helping me in he put the top down, and I felt like I was going for a ride with Bond, James Bond.

I studied Stan out of the corner of my eye. Dark wavy hair, well cut and neatly combed. Check. Dark blueberry eyes, nicely crinkled at the corners. Check. Slight smile putting an apostrophe at the corner of his mouth. Check.

We pulled away from the curb and I was glad my hair was in a ponytail as the breeze caught it and made it dance. I leaned back, closed my eyes and drifted away in the balmy spring evening.

_TBC_


	4. Chapter 4

**Senior Prom 4**

I came back to consciousness against a sculpted marble chest, being lifted out of the car by powerful arms. A tremor twisted its way up my spine, ending in a tingling shiver that gave me goosebumps and raised the hair on the back of my neck.

"Ranger," I murmured, sliding my arms around a muscled neck, burying my face in the crook of his shoulder and inhaling his intoxicating scent.

But wait… What I smelled was delicious, manly, exciting in its own way, but not the mix of Bulgari and sandalwood and Ranger that I was anticipating.

I stiffened and opened my eyes to meet the dark blue vastness of the ocean captured and framed by thick, dark brown lashes.

"Omigod, I'm sorry," I gasped out. "I thought you were someone else." I squirmed and pushed at his chest. "Put me down. I'm okay. I can walk."

He set me on my feet, keeping his hands at my waist as I wavered, still tipsy from all the wine, and then caught my balance. Oh, yeah, I remembered, Skeeter Holloway. Stan, I corrected myself. Stan Holloway.

"Sorry, Steph," he said. "You were sleeping so soundly I thought I'd just carry you inside." Stan shrugged and his tanned face pinkened. "Actually not my most brilliant idea, since I don't know which apartment is yours."

"Oh, it's two-fifteen. Right up there." I pointed to the fire escape and the flesh of my neck quivered again.

Wait… I studied the windows, trying to see if something was different from when I left. The curtains were as I remembered leaving them, windows closed, not broken. All was exactly as it should be, and yet my Spidey sense was screaming, telling me there was someone in my apartment.

"Stan, would you like to come up for coffee?" I asked, digging in my big handbag, looking for my stun gun, wondering if it was charged.

His hand rested on the small of my back as we walked across the parking lot. "Sure, that sounds great."

I finally found my stun gun and pulled it out, flipping it on to check the charge level.

"What's that?" Stan asked, looking at it curiously. It was a new, limited edition Cheetah million-volt model, palm sized and hot pink. To the uninitiated it looked like a small digital camera or remote control of some type, not like a stun gun at all.

"Just my security," I said, examining the little light. Good, it was charged. I palmed it in my right hand, away from Stan.

"So who's Ranger?" Stan asked as we entered the lobby.

I pushed the button for the elevator. "Oh, he's a bounty hunter and security specialist I work with sometimes."

"Uh, huh." Stan's voice conveyed all the skepticism I read in his face. "Not a boyfriend? Because word around the Burg is that you've been shacking up with Joe Morelli."

"I thought you lived in Princeton," I muttered. Sheesh, you can take the guy out of the Burg, but I guess you can't take the Burg out of the guy.

"I do," he answered, "but I have dinner with my parents a couple times a month. So what's the story? The way you said his name, it sure sounds like this Ranger is more than just someone you work with."

"He's a friend," I said. "A good friend."

The elevator dinged and the door opened to Mrs. Bessler. "Going up?" she sing-songed.

"Hi, Mrs. Bessler," I said as we stepped around her walker. "Two, please."

"And what about Morelli?" Stan asked, ignoring Mrs. Bessler as the elevator began its tortured ascent, creeping toward the second floor at a snail's pace, creaking and groaning and lurching. "Are you with him?"

"Not at the moment," I answered, wondering why I was letting him quiz me on my love life or lack thereof. It was really none of his damn business, so why the hell was I being so polite? I was getting ready to go all rhino mode on him but then realized Stan must have graduated with Joe. And I'm sure that the skeevy Skeeter of high school was looked down on by the cool and popular Joe Morelli, scourge of teenage virgins everywhere.

Ding, went the elevator. "Second floor," Mrs. Bessler sang out. "Better dresses, stun guns, black cargo pants."

"Thanks, Mrs. Bessler. Good night," I said as we exited.

"I don't mean to pry, Steph," Stan reassured me as we walked down the hall. He had no right to grill me about my relationships, and he damn well knew it. "I like you, a lot. If you need a friend, I'm here. And if there's a chance for more…"

I paused outside my apartment, tilting my ear toward the door to listen, Stan close behind me, his hand resting on my shoulder. "Is there something wrong?" he asked.

"No," I sighed, inserting my key. "Just being cautious." I pushed the door open and took a step inside, my eyes going from side to side, scanning for stalkers and crazies.

"Steph, sweetie," Stan said as he followed me into the small foyer, "your grandmother enlisted me to help serve refreshments Saturday night. If you're really not involved with anyone, would you be my date for the prom?"

I reached the archway to the living room and froze, causing Stan to walk right into my back. He wrapped an arm around me and tried to pull me behind him as we both gaped at the dangerous figure dressed in black, gun in hand, bottomless dark eyes glittering with fury.

In a fraction of a second I was stone cold sober.

_TBC_


	5. Chapter 5

Senior Prom 5

It all happened so fast that I have no idea what came over me. It must have been a bout of temporary insanity. Or maybe I hadn't sobered up after all. Whatever it was, I didn't know how the hell I was going to be able to explain it to Stan.

His arm was across my upper chest and he yanked me behind him, staring into the barrel of the gun pointing at us. He tensed his muscles, and I raised my stun gun to the side of his neck and tagged him.

It was like watching a tree fall in the forest. He stood perfectly still for an eternity and then tipped forward in slow motion. The man in black dropped his gun onto the chair behind him, reached out both hands and caught Stan under the arms, swiveling toward the couch and depositing him on his side. Stan gave a loud snore and lay there, his mouth hanging open and drool dripping out the corner, down his cheek and onto my navy blue throw pillow.

"Omigod, Ranger," I said. "Thanks for catching him. He might have hit the coffee table and cracked his head open."

"De nada, Babe," Ranger said, the anger gone from his eyes, replaced by something I couldn't quite decipher as he picked up his gun and holstered it in his utility belt.

"What are you doing here? When did you get back?" I asked over my shoulder as I reached through the bathroom door to grab my box of tissues.

"Wanted to see you. Just got back a few minutes ago and came straight here," Ranger said as I walked back pulling tissues from the box.

I looked Ranger over as I shoved a wad of tissues under Stan's flaccid cheek to catch the drool. Ranger had dark circles under his eyes and lines of exhaustion creasing his face. And his buff body had thinned to ropy muscle over sharp bone. I looked closer. There was a new scar on his left cheekbone, a thin red line with pieces of tape holding it together. And the way he stood there, just a hint of tension in his jaw, a smidgen of stiffness in his posture, told me there was something wrong.

"Are you okay?" I walked over to him and placed a hand on the side of his face, trying to read his mind through his eyes. "You look like you could use a good meal and about a week in bed." And then felt the blush suffuse my face as his wolf grin appeared.

"Is that an invitation?"

I dropped my hand, backing away as he looked me up and down and then glanced at Stan on the couch, still snoring and drooling. "I just meant you look tired." I was flustered and looked down at Stan, not meeting Ranger's eyes.

"Who's the stiff?" Ranger asked, jerking his head at Stan, still grinning. "New boyfriend? Because I don't think the way to a man's heart is through your stun gun."

My face grew even hotter. "I can't believe I did that. I just…" I trailed off. How could I tell him I was afraid Stan was going to hurt him? He looked so exhausted. "I had some wine with dinner and I guess I just reacted without thinking."

"Not exactly the reaction a guy expects when he asks you out, Babe." Ranger's teeth looked very white against the swarthy darkness of his face. "And what prom was he inviting you to?"

"Oh, the seniors, you know, senior citizens, are having a prom Saturday night, well, a formal dance, really. I got drafted as a chaperon."

"As in trying to keep your grandma out of trouble?" he asked.

"You got it." I nodded at him. "I have to serve refreshments, you know, plates of finger sandwiches and cookies and little cups of punch."

"You gonna go with tall, dark and snoring, there?"

Before I could answer, Stan twitched and smacked his lips, beginning to wake up. I looked at Ranger and jerked my head toward the front door. "Why don't you go home and sleep now? I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Stan groaned and opened his eyes. "Wha… What happened?" He squinted at me. "Steph?"

"Are you okay, Stan?" I hurried over and took his hand to help him sit up. "Just take it easy for a minute and I'll get you some coffee."

There was a piece of tissue stuck to the side of his face and I snatched it off before turning around. Ranger was seated in the chair opposite, staring at Stan with the empty face that scared the shit out of his men. His expression was frightening if you didn't know him. Or even if you did.

"Can I see you in the kitchen for a minute?" I gritted through clenched teeth, giving Ranger my best death glare. He rose and followed me.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked when we were safe in the kitchen. I yanked open cupboard doors, pulling out coffee and filters and slamming them down on the counter.

"Helping you get coffee for your date."

I turned my back to the coffee pot and scowled at him. "Ranger, I'm begging you please, go home. You need a good night's sleep, and I need to get Stan coffee'd up and out of here. Go home and rest."

Ranger stepped toward me, trapping me with his hands on the counter on each side of my waist. He leaned in, dark eyes boring into mine, and said one word.

"No."

_TBC_


	6. Chapter 6

_WARNING: Short chapter but a bit of smut to make up for it._

**Senior Prom 6**

Ranger's lips came crashing down on mine and all of a sudden it was hot. So hot that steam might be coming out of my ears. So hot that my panties might be smoking. So hot that I might melt into a big grease spot on the kitchen floor at any moment.

"Duh…" I said when Ranger released me.

"Babe," he replied.

After an hour or so I got my voice back. "It's time for you to go. Go home and sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."

With a teeny, tiny little inclination of his head, not really enough to be considered a nod but I knew that's what it was, Ranger walked away and I turned back to make coffee.

Ten minutes later I walked out of the kitchen carrying a tray containing the coffee pot, two mugs, spoons, and cream and sugar. Who said I didn't know how to be a good hostess?

Well, I didn't have any napkins, but in lieu of them there were a couple of folded paper towels. The cream was real half-and-half, which is what I preferred for my coffee, and I'd been to the store just a couple days ago, so I was all stocked up. The sugar and cream were in a matching cut-glass set that used to be Grandma Mazur's. She gave it to me a few years ago when she sold her house and moved in with my parents. This was the first time I'd used it, but I was feeling quite the domestic goddess.

The tray was actually a "Slater sled," Slater being the food service company from college. When it snowed freshman year my friends and I stole trays from the cafeteria and used them for sliding down the little hill from our dorm to the parking lot. Somehow that tray traveled with me through three different apartments since freshman year plus the presto-and-it's-gone marriage to the Dick. The bottom was a little scraped and battered from sliding onto the asphalt of the plowed parking lot, but the top was still perfectly serviceable and I broke it out for special occasions. Like having a hot bionics researcher over for coffee. Okay, okay, it was the first time I'd used it, too.

When I walked through the door to the living room, I almost dropped the tray. As a matter of fact, I would have dropped it if Ranger hadn't stuck a hand out from where he was seated in the chair to steady it.

Yeah, Ranger.

"I thought you were going home," I said, giving him my top-of-the-line death glare.

"No," he replied, never one to waste words.

I set the tray on the coffee table. "Here you go, Stan. Please help yourself." I turned back toward the door. "Ranger, kitchen. _Now._"

I got to the kitchen and leaned my hands on the counter, head down, taking deep breaths. What the hell did he think he was doing?

When I finally got myself under control I straightened and said, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I turned around and smacked right into a Rock-of-Gibraltar chest. Two steel-beam arms surrounded me, and a hot, hungry mouth descended on mine.

Oh… My… God…

Vivid desire burst over me like a meteor, filling my every pore with a passion that shimmered and flashed and burned. Our bodies fit together as if we were formed from matching molds, and the heat between us threatened to explode with the force of a thermonuclear blast.

Ranger's hands were under the back of my shirt, one sliding up to unhook my bra and the other slipping down into the back of my pants to cup my ass. The hand on my back came around between us to fondle my breast, and when his thumb stroked across my rock-hard nipple the sensation sizzled through me, making me gasp and arch my back, begging for more.

My arms went around his neck, a completely involuntary action, I swear, and my legs wrapped around his waist, pressing my core against the massive hard-on that threatened to tear out of his cargoes at any moment. I tortured myself, and probably Ranger, too, by pumping my hips in and out, sliding my center up and down his hardness and feeling the orgasm building deep in my loins.

As quickly as it began, it ended. Ranger tore his mouth away from mine, set me down on the floor with a thud, and took a step backward.

"We need another cup, Babe," he said, his voice low and husky, his eyelids heavy over eyes dark as sin.

My head was spinning so fast I couldn't even find my own thoughts. "Huh?" I mumbled.

"Another cup. So we can have coffee with Stan."

Huh? Stan who?

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**Senior Prom 7**

Ranger walked out of the kitchen and back into the living room, a huge bulge tenting the front of his pants. I could feel the blush burning its way across my face as I remembered that Stan Holloway was sitting in there waiting for me.

I shot across the hall to the living room doorway and stopped cold, watching Ranger standing just across the coffee table from Stan, his hard-on practically in Stan's face, pouring himself a cup of coffee. Stan was leaning back, his shoulders slightly hunched and his head turned a bit to the side, taking great pains not to look at what was so enormous and obvious right in front of him.

I rushed back to the kitchen, reached behind me to re-hook my bra, grabbed another coffee mug, and skidded into the living room. Ranger was seated in the chair across from Stan and was staring at him with empty eyes. The lack of expression on his face gave me a little frisson of fear up my spine and made my already-hard nipples tingle.

When in doubt, fall back on Burg manners. "Stan, this is Ranger Manoso. He's the owner of RangeMan Security and also a bounty hunter. We work together sometimes."

I sat down on the couch beside Stan and looked across at Ranger. As his eyes met mine I could see the faintest trace of amusement lurking behind the blank face. "Ranger, this is Stan Holloway. We went to high school together and he's now a bionics researcher for, uh…" I trailed off, having forgotten who Stan worked for.

"Virilux Industries in Princeton," Stan supplied, ever helpful, and plowed on with his rote explanation. "Bionics is the medical application of technology to mimic biological functions in the human body."

Ranger just stared at Stan with dead eyes, as if he'd just as soon kill him as look at him, like Stan was a cockroach he was about to squash under his boot.

"I'm glad to see you got some coffee, Stan," I blurted out, pouring myself a cup and adding cream and sugar. "You too, Ranger. There's nothing like a good cup of coffee after dinner."

Silence.

So I kept talking. "This is my very favorite coffee, from Dunkin' Donuts. They sell it by the pound now, you know, ground or whole bean. I don't have a coffee grinder, so I get the ground. Maybe one of these days I'll get a grinder. They say fresh ground is even better."

Silence.

So I filled it. "Tasty Pastry may have the best doughnuts, but Dunkin' has the best coffee. And their doughnuts are good, too. I like the Boston crèmes from Tasty Pastry, but Dunkin' makes the best jelly."

I was babbling and I knew it, anything to fill the uncomfortable silence. I wondered whether it would be discourteous to boot them both the hell out of my apartment.

We sipped in silence for a few minutes.

Finally I couldn't stand it for another second. "So Stan, have you been following the Phillies? They're really doing well so far. Some people are predicting they'll go all the way to the Series this year."

"I'm not a big baseball fan," Stan said, looking at me for a moment and then returning his gaze to Ranger's face. Huh. Stan had a blank face of his own.

I finished my coffee, set the cup on the table and made a big show of yawning and stretching. "Gee, it's been a long day." It had to be the longest freakin' day of the year, I thought.

Ranger reached a long arm across the coffee table, snagged the pot, and poured himself another cup, continuing to stare at Stan, his eyes a black void. The second the pot was back on the tray, Stan had it in his hand, pouring more for himself. "Steph?" he questioned, holding out the pot.

I sighed and held out my cup for him to pour. I watched Stan add a dollop of cream to his coffee, and I stirred in my own, plus some sugar.

I was at a complete loss. There was some kind of macho power struggle going on here, and it was almost as if I were superfluous. I sighed again and drank my coffee in silence, wanting to turn on the TV, or some music, or something, anything, to fill the silence. The testosterone in the room was palpable, and the tension was so thick you had to be careful not to breathe too deep or you'd choke on it.

Ranger set his coffee cup down and reached behind him, coming up with a gun, his backup piece I guessed, since there was another weapon in view on his hip. He released the magazine, catching it as it dropped into his hand, and pulled the slide back to eject the round from the chamber. He checked the barrel, stuck the loose bullet into the magazine, re-seated it, and jacked a round back into the chamber. Holding the gun loose in his hand, he looked right through Stan, his face expressionless.

I jumped to my feet, slamming my mug down so hard on the table that coffee slopped over the edges.

"Okay, that's enough," I said. "Ranger, you're obviously exhausted and you need to go home and sleep." I turned to Stan. "And I'm really tired, so you'd better go, too."

Ranger stood without a word, gave me a long look that I couldn't read, stuck the gun in the small of his back and walked out the door. I heard his heavy tread in the hallway and the apartment door opened and closed with an audible click. It threw me a little, because Ranger came and went like smoke, soundless and invisible, with no evidence of his passage except a faint drift of Bulgari.

I turned to Stan. "Thank you so much for driving me home, Stan, but now I'm really exhausted."

"I'd better go then." He rose. "Steph, about the prom. Will you be my date?"

"That's so sweet of you to ask, but I don't think I'd better." I sighed. "I'm still technically with Joe Morelli, even though we're not speaking right now."

"Well, since we'll be working together at the refreshment table, how about I pick you up? Not a date," he was quick to assure me as I opened my mouth to answer, "just two friends sharing a ride."

"Sure, Stan, that would be great." And that way I could have a glass of punch or three and not have to worry about driving home.

"Do you want me to pick you up in the morning to go get your car?" he asked. "I have to be at work at seven, but I could pick you up at six-fifteen and drop you at your parents' house."

"No, thanks." I was quick to refuse his offer. No way was I going to get up that early. "I'll catch a ride with a friend when I'm ready to go to work."

"It was terrific seeing you again after all these years, Steph. Thanks for the coffee. And I'll pick you up Saturday night at six-thirty." The dance ran from seven to ten in deference to the seniors' early bedtime.

"See you then."

"Goodnight." Stan kissed me on the cheek at the door and was gone.

I locked up and dragged myself into the bathroom, shedding clothes along the way, thinking about what a weird evening it had been. Between all the stress and the coffee, I'd sobered up, though I found myself wishing for another glass of wine to help me relax. Oh, well, a nice hot shower should do the trick.

Twenty minutes later, showered, shaved, moisturized and wrapped in a towel, I walked into my bedroom. Halfway across the room it registered, and I stopped short, my breath catching and my heart hammering.

Somebody was in my bed.

_TBC -- A/N: For you Phillies fans, I wrote this last summer, BEFORE the Phils went on to win the World Series, lol!  
_


	8. Chapter 8

**Senior Prom 8**

I stood statue still, staring at the figure in my bed.

It was dark in the room and I'd just come from the brightness of the bathroom, so all I could see was a silhouette. I was afraid to move, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dimness, straining to see who was waiting in bed for me, praying I didn't have another freaky stalker.

It was a man. I could tell from the shape. Long, lean lines, stretched out on his back with arms up and crossed above his head, framing his face on my pillow. Joe, I thought, relaxing a little as I made out the dark hair tumbled over the forehead.

Bare, muscled chest, with the sheet covering him to the waist, his skin dusky against the whiteness of the bedding. I studied the chest, trying to spot the darker outline of Joe's eagle tattoo, but seeing only a void.

The tingling began in the back of my neck and worked its ways down to kindle every nerve ending in my body, raising goosebumps all over. Not Joe, I realized. Ranger.

Or fear.

I shivered.

After standing there for an eternity, still unable to see more than the shape, I shifted my weight to one foot and inched the other backward. If I could get back to the door I'd just flip the light switch so I could see. Plus I'd be closer to escape, just in case.

The voice stopped me in my tracks.

"Come to bed, Babe."

Ranger.

I walked over and climbed up next to him, clicking on the bedside lamp as I passed. Kneeling beside him I realized why I thought it was Joe at first. Without his shirt it was obvious how much weight he'd lost, at least twenty pounds. He was thinner than I'd ever seen him, his ribs prominent, his chest and shoulders lean sinew and defined muscle over angular bone.

I took his face in both hands, studying it. His eyes were deep sockets, surrounded by creases of fatigue. I'd thought he looked tired and drawn when I first saw him in my living room, but now he looked exhausted beyond reason.

"What are you doing here?" I asked. "I thought you were going home to get some sleep."

"I need to hold you."

Tenderness for him flooded through me, swamping me in a sea of feelings. Last year when he almost died right here in my apartment, I finally admitted to myself that I love him. I love two men, Joe and Ranger, and I'd told Joe I loved him that very night in the car on the way to the hospital.

But I never told Ranger.

"Ranger," I began, but then I saw the pain cross his face. Just a flash, and if I didn't know him so well I'd have missed it.

"Are you hurt?" I asked.

He shifted, just a fraction of an inch, the twitch of a muscle, and I looked down. Almost invisible against the white of the sheet was more white, wrapped around and around his waist.

Bandages.

I moved the edge of the sheet down a couple inches to reveal red seeping through the bandage, staining the right side.

"Omigod, you're wounded," I said, reaching toward the edge of the bandage to see how extensive the damage was.

"Babe."

The single word stopped me dead, the warning in it enough to tell me that I shouldn't touch.

My eyes overflowed with tears. "My God, Ranger, why didn't you tell me you were injured? Before, in the kitchen, I must have hurt it, made it worse. I'm so sorry."

"It's nothing. Just a little scratch."

Sure. Right.

"It's bleeding. I think I should call someone to take a look at you."

"I just need sleep, Babe. Come to bed."

Behind his blank expression the depths of his eyes told me the mission had been bad, things had gone wrong. Written there were horror and sorrow and pain, plain to my sight.

"Be right there," I said, getting up and grabbing a t-shirt and panties. I changed in the bathroom and rushed back to him, pausing when I saw the closed eyes, the steady rise and fall of his chest. In just those few seconds of waiting for me he'd fallen asleep.

He looked so young and otherworldly lying there. I'd never seen him asleep before, and he had the face of an angel, long dark lashes resting on cheeks defined by sharp bones, all planes and angles. His lips were full and firm, the top a perfect cupid's bow.

My heart was so full that tears stung my eyes again. When had he gotten so far under my skin, into my blood, into my heart? He'd become a part of me without me realizing it, as essential as the very air I breathed. And I'd never told him how I felt about him, how much I loved him.

I'll tell him tomorrow, I vowed.

I studied the red stain on his side for several seconds. It wasn't getting bigger, so maybe it stopped bleeding.

I probably shouldn't get in bed with him, I thought. I didn't want to make his injury any worse. Maybe I should just sit in the chair here and watch him sleep, keep an eye on his wound so I could call someone if the bleeding got worse.

I started to move a pile of clothes off the chair, perfectly silent I thought, until his voice came again.

"Come to bed, Babe. Please."

One of Ranger's eyes was cracked open just a fraction and I gave him a small smile as I clicked off the lamp. Taking care not to bump against him, I slid under the sheet that he held up for me.

The instant I was prone he turned toward me, rolling me onto my side facing away from him and pulling me close. His bottom arm was under my neck, bent at the elbow to rest across my chest, the hand holding my upper arm. His other arm wrapped around my waist and belly, fingers tucked under my hip.

He kissed the side of my head, rested his cheek on my curls and was asleep again an instant later.

If we were any closer he'd be inside me, I reflected, staunching a tremor of lust as I felt his heart beating steady against my back.

I lay relaxed in his warmth and thought about the men in my life. I loved two men, but more and more over the past year I'd come to realize my love for Joe was more of the friendship variety. The primary reason I wouldn't consider marrying Joe and having a family with him was lying right here holding me.

Tomorrow, I thought, floating on a river of contentment. Tomorrow I'll tell Ranger I love him.

An abrupt bouncing and rolling like a storm-tossed sea woke me, and I squinted in the brightness of the overhead light.

"What the fuck is going on here?" a furious voice ground out.

_TBC_


	9. Chapter 9

**Senior Prom 9**

The snick of a bullet socketing home had me wide awake in a nanosecond.

My heart was a jackhammer, trying to pound its way out of my chest as I sprang up to a sitting position and peered with eyes narrowed against the sudden bright light. My glance ping-ponged back and forth from one side of the room to the other, not knowing where to look first.

To my left standing by the bedroom door, his face contorted with anger, Joe Morelli stood with his arms extended straight out in front of him. He held his service pistol in both hands, pointing it across the room with his index finger on the trigger. Faded jeans covered the finest ass in Trenton and a navy blue t-shirt clung to his long, lean torso. Dark brown hair in need of a trim tumbled over his forehead and curled down onto his neck. His knuckles were white as he gripped the gun hand over hand, and his expression was furious, frightening.

To my right Ranger stood in the corner of the room, naked and magnificent, pointing his gun right back at Joe. His long hair was loose, dark and silky, resting on his shoulders and encircling his face. The white wrapping of the bandage cut his body in half, sculpted brown chest above adorned with small dark nipples, the pathway to heaven below framed by soft hair and powerful thighs. In spite of the weight he'd lost his body was so beautiful, so perfect, that a sigh, soft as a whisper, melted out of my lungs.

Finally my sight settled on what I perceived to be the greater threat. "Put the gun down, Joe," I said, keeping my voice calm and soft and soothing.

His answer was low and harsh. "They'll never convict me in a million years. I walk in on a dangerous criminal in bed with my girlfriend, he pulls a gun on me, and I defend my life and my honor." His finger tightened on the trigger

"Joe, stop. It's not what it looks like." I rolled off the bed toward Ranger, throwing myself in front of him, thinking only of stopping Joe from killing the man I loved before I had a chance to tell him.

"Get out of the way, Babe," Ranger's deep voice came from behind me. His left arm snaked around my shoulders and he spun me behind him, never taking his eyes or his gun off Joe.

"Stop it, both of you," I shouted. "Lower your weapons… _Right_…_ now_…"

I took Ranger's arm and moved it aside to step in front of him again, staring at Joe with every ounce of determination I could muster. "Enough, Joe. We need to talk."

The ferocity drifted from his face, leaving hurt and confusion as he lowered the gun to his side. My heart clenched. Joe was a good man and a good cop, and he didn't deserve what he found here tonight. To my right I felt as much as saw Ranger's gun hand go down, and the tension in my chest loosened.

"Okay, that's better," I said. "Let's go out in the living room and I'll make some coffee."

Joe's eyes drifted down my body. "Stephanie, for Christ's sake get some clothes on." He focused lower and the rage flew back across his face, raising his voice to a bellow. "Jesus fuckin' Christ, is that his name on your crotch?"

I looked down and realized my t-shirt was missing. I was wearing nothing but a pair of black knit bikini panties with "RangeMan" embroidered in hot pink low across the front.

Oh, crap.

I looked frantically around and spied the black t-shirt I'd worn to bed lying on the floor in front of me. I snatched it up and pulled it over my head before I realized it was one of Ranger's. The RangeMan logo, embroidered black-on-black, fell smack on top of my left nipple.

Joe's jaw clenched. "For God's sake, his name is all over you."

Thanks to some quick sleight-of-hand on my part, Joe had never seen the RangeMan-logoed underwear, even though they were in a laundry basket at his house for a while. I'd managed to shuffle them into my bag and get them home, and I kept them in my closet with my uniforms, ready in case I needed them for a RangeMan job. In my haste to get ready for bed, I just grabbed the first thing that came to hand.

Although if I were really honest with myself, I'd gone straight for Ranger's shirt tonight. I'd been wearing it to bed almost every night since he left a few weeks ago. And I guess having him in my bed motivated my subconscious to choose the panties, too.

Sadness and anger mingled in Joe's voice and on his face as he stared at the black t-shirt covering me. "In spite of all the disagreements we've had, Cupcake, all the timeouts and fights and breakups, it never, ever crossed my mind that you'd cheat on me."

Joe shook his head and turned away from me, shoulders slumped.

"Joe, wait," I said, hurrying after him as he walked out the bedroom door. "I never cheated on you, and this really isn't what it looks like." He stopped in the hall that led to the apartment door and I came up behind him and slipped my fingers through the ends of his hair to curve around his neck. "Please give me a chance to explain."

He turned to face me, his expression grim. "I'm not staying with _him_ in your bed. Get rid of him and we'll talk."

His rough words were spears, piercing my heart. "I can't, Joe. He just got back from something bad, and he's hurt, and… He needs me tonight, and I need to be here for him."

Joe's head went down, every bone in his body drooping, and then he seemed to grab hold of himself, straightening up and meeting my eyes with penetrating brown. "Does he know you're in love with him?"

Now it was my turn to look away. I studied my bare feet. I really need a pedicure, I thought. I bent my wrists to look at my hands. Manicure, too. In the morning I'll make an appointment.

"Stephanie." Joe's voice jerked me back. "You wanted to talk, so talk. Have you told him you love him?"

I dragged my eyes back up. "Joe, I haven't been fair to you, and I'm sorry. Last year, after Ranger got…" I could hardly bear the memory, even now. "… got shot, I realized something."

God, this was hard. "I love you, Joe. I'll always love you. You've been a great friend and a good boyfriend. But…" I swallowed the lump in my throat and blurted it out. "I love Ranger, too. Somewhere along the line over the past three years I fell in love with him. I can't help it, couldn't stop it. It just happened, and now I'm stuck with it."

Joe's hard cop eyes softened. "I know something about love, Cupcake. You've gotta show it, reach out and get it. And when it's over you've gotta let it go. That's why I came here tonight, to let you go."

The tears that I was blinking back overflowed and ran down my cheeks. I dashed them away and said, "You came here in the middle of the night to break up with me? I don't believe you."

"It's only eleven thirty, Cupcake. I expected you to still be up." As I opened my mouth he continued, "And you can choose to believe it or not, but I'm telling you now, I can't handle the off and on, the fights, the uncertainty anymore. I need a commitment, and you're obviously not ready to commit." A small smile curved his lips. "Be committed, maybe…"

"I never meant to hurt you," I said, still swiping at the tears that were flowing fast down my face.

"I know. But it's over with us, so you're free to go to him, tell him…"

He was interrupted by a loud _crash_ from the bedroom.

_TBC_


	10. Chapter 10

**Senior Prom 10**

Joe and I stood stock-still, staring at each other for a fraction of a second and then as one we turned and raced for the bedroom.

I skidded to a stop just inside the door and Joe almost knocked me over. I was frozen, unable to think or move or act, caught in a recurring nightmare that had haunted me for the past year.

Lying on the floor in front of me, unconscious, was Ranger. He had his cargoes on and just above the waistband the white bandage was soaked bright red. The carpet on the floor underneath him was red, too, blood pooling and saturating it.

It was Scrog all over again, and I was watching the man I loved, the love of my life, bleeding out on the floor of my apartment. And I was tied to a chair, unable do anything to save him.

I felt Joe moving behind me, and all of a sudden he was slapping a towel into my hands.

"Stephanie!" he shouted. "Put pressure on the wound to stop the bleeding." He already had his phone to his ear and barked orders about ambulances and giving my address.

I felt like I was mired in quicksand. Ranger… Oh God, and I never told him. He told me he loved me, but I could never tell him. Why should true love be so complicated?

Joe closed his phone with a snap and moved in front of me, grabbing me by both arms. "Stephanie!" he shouted, shaking me. "Snap out of it! We've got to stop the bleeding."

He dragged me over to Ranger's side and pushed on my shoulders until I knelt down. I landed right in the blood soaking into the carpet and I felt its warmth and wetness on my knees. All I could think of was how I'd failed again. I never told Ranger I loved him, and now I couldn't even save him.

"Stephanie! If you love him, you can save his fuckin' life," Joe said. "Where's his wound? Which side?"

"There," I said, pointing and touching the right side of the blood-soaked bandage with a tentative index finger. You could see the old, darker bloodstain beneath the new red.

But I couldn't press on it. Ranger was dying and I didn't want to hurt him. I didn't want the last thing he felt to be pain caused by me.

Joe had no such qualms. He slapped the towel on the spot, took both of my hands and positioned them on the towel, his on top of them, and pushed down. "Like this, Steph. Press hard. Put your weight into it."

"I don't want to hurt him, Joe. I love him."

"Cupcake, if you really love him, you can save his worthless life. Just keep pressure on. Press hard. I'm going to go down and meet the paramedics and bring them up." He got right in my face, his hands still holding mine down, his eyes dark and serious. "You can do this, Stephanie. Press down. Hold it, hard. Stop the bleeding. Save him."

I can do it, I told myself. I love him. I can save him. I straightened up and leaned over Ranger, using the weight of my upper body to hold the towel tight on his side with both hands.

His face was pale, his mocha-latte skin faded to a grayish white. He looked dead already, but I stared, willing him to breathe, using every resource I could summon to try to compel his heart to keep beating.

"Ranger, there's something I need to tell you," I said, trying to keep my voice strong, even though it was clouded with tears. "You need to come back to me so I can tell you."

The tears ran down my cheeks and dripped onto his chest, still bare and beautiful. And as I watched the tears glittering like diamonds, I saw the refracted light shimmering and shifting with the infinitesimal rise and fall of his chest.

He was still breathing. "Oh, God, please God," I prayed in a whisper, "keep his heart beating. Please let him live, Lord, so I can tell him how I feel. Even if we can't be together, I love him and I need him to know. Please God, help me be strong for him. Help me save him. I love him."

I pushed with all my strength, and cried, and prayed, and watched the faint rise and fall of his chest, concentrating on it as if only my love pouring into him could keep him breathing.

After an eternity of battling the fear of my nightmare I heard clomping and saw the boots of a paramedic planted on the other side of Ranger..

"Okay, miss, you can let go now," came an unfamiliar voice from beside me. "We'll take it from here."

"No, I can't let him go. I need to save him." I didn't know what I was saying.

"Stephanie." Joe's voice penetrated my fog of feeling and I looked up to see him standing in the doorway. "You can let go now. These guys know what to do to save him."

Gentle hands took hold of my wrists and pulled them off the blood-soaked towel. "We've got him, miss. Now move out of the way so we can see what we have here."

Joe came across and lifted me with both hands under my arms. "Come on, Cupcake, we need to stay out of the way so the EMTs can do their job." He pulled me up and wrapped an arm around me, walking me to the opposite side of the room.

"I can't leave him, Joe," I sobbed, watching the paramedics cut away the bandages from Ranger's waist. "I have to save him."

"It'll be okay, Cupcake. Everything's going to be okay."

I stood there in Joe's arms for another eternity while the paramedics worked on Ranger. My eyes were blurry and my mind wouldn't function, but finally the word "stable" penetrated the haze.

"What?" I said, feeling like I just woke up from a hundred-year sleep.

"They've got him stabilized and are ready to transport him to the hospital," Joe said.

One of the EMTs left the room and returned after a few minutes with a stretcher on wheels. Joe let go of me to help shift Ranger's feet as they lifted him onto the stretcher, strapped him in and raised it.

As they started to wheel him from the room I grabbed the side of the stretcher. "You're not taking him anywhere without me," I said. "I'm not leaving him."

"Are you his next of kin?" one of the EMTs asked.

I hesitated.

"Yes," Joe's voice came strong and clear. "She's his wife. She goes with him."

_TBC_


	11. Chapter 11

**Senior Prom 11**

I rode to St. Francis strapped into a small jumpseat in the back of the ambulance, holding Ranger's hand and talking to him through my tears the whole way, everything I felt for him spilling out like water pouring out of a downspout during a torrential rain. I told him in no uncertain terms that he couldn't die, that I wouldn't permit it. I needed him, and that's all there was to it. He wasn't allowed to leave me ever again. I told him over and over that I loved him, that I was always going to love him.

They wouldn't let me stay in the treatment room with him when we arrived at the emergency room. A nurse I didn't recognize had to practically carry me away from him, prying my hand off his so the doctors could do their thing. She supported me with an arm around my waist to keep me from collapsing. I ended up in a small private waiting room after the nurse told me she was almost positive Ranger was going to need surgery. She promised to come tell me when they took him in.

I sat in a wing chair in the little room and sobbed. Fear made my heart stutter and regret made it ache, regret that I hadn't told Ranger how I felt while I had the chance. I told him in the ambulance, but he was unconscious. He didn't hear me.

Tank joined me within minutes. The tears were still flooding my face, and my nose was dripping, so I mopped it with tissues from the box that sat on the small end table. "Did they tell you anything?" I asked in my filled-up, teary voice.

"Just that they were evaluating him. They told me his wife was in the Rose Room."

"Wife?" I wailed, confused and heartsick, more tears gushing out. Did they mean me, because of what Joe told the paramedics? Or was Ranger actually married? Was it already too late for us, before he even knew that I loved him?

Oh God. I swallowed the huge lump in my throat and asked Tank. "What wife? Where's the Rose Room?"

A grid of gigantic white teeth split his face, downright scary. I'd never seen Tank grin before, but I think that's what it was meant to be. "This is the Rose Room, Bombshell. They meant you. Is there something you want to tell me?"

_oOo_

When they brought Ranger out of surgery the surgeon came in to update us. It was a close thing, he said, but they repaired the damage to his liver and stitched him up again. He'd recover if he stayed quiet for a couple of weeks and didn't tear out the stitches again.

It seemed that I'd done nothing but cry for the past two hours, but that didn't stop me from crying some more. My eyes blurry with tears, I allowed Tank to guide me to the ICU, where Ranger was going to spend the night. I don't know how Tank managed it, but he said a few words to the charge nurse and before I knew it I was in a chair next to Ranger's bed.

I was on Ranger's left, his good side, so I took his hand and studied his face. It had more color than the gray-white I saw while waiting for the paramedics to arrive, but it was still far from the beautiful café au lait color I loved.

I pulled my chair closer to his side and laid my head on the pillow beside his, my cheek resting on his hospital-gowned shoulder. I let go of his hand and slid my arm across his chest, taking care to stay well above the bandages around his midsection.

"I love you, Ranger," I whispered and for the first time in more than four hours, I relaxed.

_oOo_

"You need to get off the bed, Mrs. Manoso, so I can take your husband's vitals." The nurse's sharp voice awakened me, baffled and befuddled, from a sound sleep.

"Huh?" I said, dragging my eyes open but squeezing them tight again in the blinding brilliance of the fluorescent lights.

"You really shouldn't be on the bed, anyway," the nurse continued in a disapproving tone.

"I need her here." The hoarse growl was the most welcome sound I think I've ever heard in my life. Ranger was conscious.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Ricardo," the nurse said, her voice changing to friendly and flirty, "but what in the world happened to your gown?" Through my squinting eyes I could see her looking Ranger over, smiling and thrusting out her chest.

I lifted my head and saw the most welcome sight of my life, warm brown eyes, open and alert. Ranger framed my face in his hands and his lips met mine, soft and sweet.

"Good morning, Babe," he said.

"Ranger, I…" My voice broke and the waterworks burst forth again and I buried my face in his neck and cried.

He told the nurse to give us a few minutes, wrapped his arms around me and held me close to his good side while I erupted with great wracking sobs.

After a while my uncontrollable blubbering began to diminish and I became aware of Ranger's voice murmuring soothing Spanish into my ear. I didn't understand anything he said, but it was comforting and eased my distress.

"I'm sorry," I said when I regained enough composure to speak. "I don't know what got into me."

"It's okay, Babe, don't cry. I'm sorry I scared you so much."

"I was afraid you were going to die." The tears welled up again and spilled down my cheeks and I buried my face back in his neck. He held me like that for long minutes until the nurse came back in.

"Mrs. Manoso, would you like to freshen up? There's a private bathroom just down the hall where you can shower if you'd like." The nurse was much less harsh with me after my meltdown. She continued, "I believe one of the guards outside has a bag for you. And while you're out I'll check your husband's incision and take his vitals."

"Okay," I said in my teary voice.

As I slid off the bed and felt around with my feet for the flip-flops I'd shoved on before leaving my apartment, Ranger held onto my hand. "Babe," he said, "come right back when you're finished. Please."

"I will, I promise. I'll just be a minute. There's something I need to tell you."

Fifteen minutes later I was clean and dressed in clean RangeMan underwear, RangeMan yoga pants and a RangeMan t-shirt from the bag Tank handed me. There wasn't any makeup in the bag, so there wasn't much I could do about the ravages of all the crying of the past eight hours, but cold water helped the puffiness some. My hair was brushed and in a damp ponytail, and I felt much more human.

Ranger's chest was still bare above the wide swath of bandages, and if he hadn't been in such serious condition I'd be drooling. He smiled when he saw my line of sight and said, "See something you like, Babe?"

"Sure do," I responded, but my voice broke on just those couple of words and the tears welled up again.

"Babe," Ranger said, holding his arms out to me. "Get back in bed. I need you here, and I think you need it, too."

I didn't answer, my throat aching from fighting the tears, but I climbed up onto the narrow bed on his good side, careful not to jar him. He pulled me in against him and exhaled, saying, "There, that's better."

I relaxed in his arms and thought how much I loved him. I'm going to tell him, right now, I vowed.

"I need to tell you something," I said, "but it's hard, and you might not want to hear it."

"You can tell me anything. You know that. What is it?"

"I…" I trailed off.

"What, Babe?"

"I…"

He cupped his hand under my chin and raised my face up so I was looking right into those all-seeing eyes. They were mesmerizing, dark and deep and delicious, and they drew me in, hypnotized me.

"It's a story," I burst out. "A bedtime story to help you go to sleep so you rest and get better. It starts like this. Once upon a time in Trenton…"

_TBC_


	12. Chapter 12

**Senior Prom 12**

Okay, so here's the thing. I'm a big, fat chicken. When it came right down to it, I just couldn't tell Ranger I love him.

It was kind of like with Joe all those years, except not really the same. With Joe I couldn't tell him I loved him because I wasn't really in love with him. I loved him, yes. And with the emotion of the Scrog crisis, I finally told him. But I was never in love with him, not in a till-death-do-us-part sort of way.

With Ranger it was almost the opposite. I was head-over-heels, mad-about-you in love with him. It took me a long time, but I finally admitted it to myself. The problem was, I loved him so much that if he rejected me, sent me back to Joe again, it would destroy me. I didn't think I'd survive it.

So I was scared shitless and took the chicken route. Instead of telling him I loved him, I told him a fairy tale about a former lingerie buyer who blackmailed her cousin into giving her a job as a bounty hunter. I took a moderate risk and even told him about the scary, badass Cuban bounty hunter who became her mentor.

When I got to the part about the heroine being handcuffed naked to the shower rod and having to call the scary badass to rescue her, Ranger's eyes darkened to onyx and his mouth took mine prisoner. That was the end of the story.

"And they lived happily ever after," I gasped at the end of the kiss.

Ranger had turned to face me and the silk boxers he wore were no match for the size of his hard-on. He plunged his hips toward my pelvis and then his breath caught, sharp and quick. I cupped his face in both of my hands and read the pain he couldn't quite hide behind his blank expression.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Ranger," I said.

His eyes softened. "My own stupid fault, Babe."

He eased over onto his back again.

"Maybe I should sit on the chair for a while," I suggested.

"No."

"But…"

"No. You're staying here." He used his arm around my neck to draw me snug to his good side and I cuddled in.

"Okay, but it's awfully early. I'm going back to sleep." And I was hoping Ranger would, too. He needed to rest, to heal.

_oOo_

_The next day_

"Hey, Mom, it's me."

"Stephanie, this is your mother."

"Mom, _I_ called _you!_ I know who you are." I think my mother has finally gone around the bend. The combination of steam from her iron and Jack Daniels from her secret cache has sent her off to Never-Never Land. As in, I'll never-never be normal again.

"Stephanie, the whole Burg is saying that you married that bounty hunter. I've had more than a hundred phone calls congratulating me on your marriage, and dozens from people who were angry because we didn't invite them to the wedding! How could you get married without telling us? Why would you do such a thing? Don't you have any respect at all for your family?"

Ah, that explains the forty-four voicemails she left me over the past day and a half. I just listened to my voicemail and kept hitting delete. "Stephanie, this is your mother." BEEP! "Stephanie, this is your mother." BEEP!

"Mom, stop! I didn't get married."

"But everyone is saying you did! And that you're in the hospital because your new husband is dying from a knife wound because he got in a fight with a gang, and you're under twenty-four-hour guard because there's a contract out on you both."

"It's not true. None of it is true. You should know better than to listen to all the stupid rumors."

"How could you let this go on for _two whole days_ without calling?"

"It hasn't been two whole days, only a day and a half. But I'm really sorry, Mom. I didn't know about the rumors. I've been at the hospital with Ranger and you have to keep your cell phone turned off here." At least in the ICU you did, and Ranger was there for the first twelve hours after his emergency surgery. After that I just kept it turned off to avoid my mother's calls.

"So that part is true, then? He was almost killed in a knife fight?"

"Not exactly. He was out of the country on a mission, and he got wounded with a knife. And Wednesday night he accidentally tore the stitches out and they had to do surgery to repair the damage. But he's doing better and is being released today."

"What about the twenty-four-hour guards? Are you in danger? Is someone trying to kill you?"

"No, Mom, nobody's trying to kill me, or Ranger either. It's just Ranger's men. It's kind of a vigil thing with them. They always stand watch when one of them is in the hospital."

That was a bit of shading on the truth. It was true Ranger's men always stood watch, but in this case it was really a protection thing. Ranger had enemies, serious ones from his many years of Special Ops work, and any time he was unable to protect himself his men made sure to protect him. Tank himself had been outside Ranger's door for probably thirty of the past thirty-six hours, leaving only to sleep for a few hours and then coming right back.

"I've got to go, Mom."

I could hear my grandmother in the background. "Wait, your grandmother wants to talk with you."

There was a humming noise caused by my mother putting her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone, followed by some cracking and buzzing as the phone changed hands. Finally my grandmother's voice came on. "Stephanie, are you okay?"

"Sure, Grandma, I'm fine."

"How's the bounty hunter with the nice package? Is he going to be out of the hospital to bring you to the prom tomorrow? You're still coming, right? You promised."

"I'll be there, Grandma. I haven't forgotten. And I told you I didn't want a date. I'm coming alone. Ranger is doing better now, but he won't be up to dancing tomorrow night."

"Well, how about Stanley Holloway? He really liked you, I could tell. And he's coming anyway."

"I can't go with Stan. He's a really nice guy, but I'm just not up for dating right now."

"He called here, you know, asking for your phone number. I thought sure he was going to invite you to the prom."

Stan was next on my list of calls. I had to tell him that he didn't need to pick me up for the prom after all. I didn't know where I'd be. Unless some cleaning miracle had occurred, my bedroom carpet was still saturated with Ranger's blood, and I couldn't go back there until it was gone. Thinking about Ranger almost bleeding to death for the second time on my floor made my stomach clench and twist. I wasn't sure I could go back there, period. Ever.

"I've got to go, Grandma, but I'll be there tomorrow night, with bells on. See you then."

_oOo_

I walked back down the hall from the family lounge and nodded to Tank, his huge frame perched on a rickety folding chair that looked to be in imminent danger of permanent crumpling.

I hesitated in the doorway of the private room, studying Ranger's face as he lay on top of the bed, eyes closed. He was dressed in cargoes and a t-shirt, ready to go home, but his feet were bare. His long, slim feet and straight, even toes were sexy as hell. Foot fetishists were just plain creepy, and yet I felt the almost uncontrollable compulsion to lick those feet, to suck each toe into my mouth, to tongue my way up his arch, his ankle, his calf, his knee, his thigh, right to his…

He opened his eyes and a faint smile touched his luscious lips when he spotted me.

"Babe," he said, holding a hand out toward me.

He hadn't wanted to let go of me since he woke up from his surgery. The few times I left his bed, to use the bathroom or grab a bite to eat, he practically begged me to come right back. Things weren't right in his head, and he was clinging to me in desperation, trying to chase away the dark. But it wasn't working.

I crawled up on the hospital bed where we'd spent the last twenty-four hours twined together, barely able to tell where one of us ended and the other began. As he pulled me to his side again, I could feel the tension releasing from his muscles and hear his breath sighing out.

This was just plain wrong. Ranger didn't sigh. He didn't cling. He didn't get emotional or depressed. I was going to make him talk about what was bothering him, force him to tell me. I'd get to the bottom of this if it killed me.

And it might.

_TBC_


	13. Chapter 13

_WARNING: Smut! And alliteration, sorry about that. Couldn't stop myself.  
_

**Senior Prom13**

"I'm going down to the gym for a while," Ranger said as soon as we got back to Haywood.

Yeah, I was still with him. When he got his release papers from the hospital I told him I had a skip to look for, and I needed to go to the bonds office and check for files. Without a word to me he called Tank into the room and told him to put Binkie and Brett on my skips until further notice. When I started to argue, he simply said, "I need you, Babe." My heart puffed up into a great gooey glob, and I was a goner.

But now he thought he was going to leave me here on the seventh floor and go down to the gym? I didn't think so.

I crossed my arms and gave him my stern look. "Ranger, the doctors said you need to rest for two weeks so you can heal. You already look pale and sick just from the effort of riding home from the hospital. I want you to get in bed before you collapse again."

"Babe," he said and began to walk toward the apartment door. So much for my stern look.

I scurried around him and backed myself up against the door, arms out on each side of me, blocking his way.

"No, Ranger, I mean it. You're not going to the gym today. I'm _not_ going to let you kill yourself." I put every iota of my conviction into my glare and stared into his eyes.

Haunted eyes.

My heart constricted, and I reached up around his neck and pulled him to me, kissing him on the cheek. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

In a nanosecond I was smashed against the door by his powerful body. His mouth was feverish, grabbing, taking, possessing until I was aflame in the heat of him.

His arms were around me, hands gripping my ass and lifting me to his hardness.

"No." I wrenched my mouth away from his. "Don't. You'll hurt yourself."

I pushed against his chest until he released me, then took his hand and led him toward the bedroom, studying the tent pole in his pants out of the corner of my eye.

My mind was revolving a mile a minute. I'd been battling my attraction to Ranger for more than a year, ever since he sent me back to Joe after spending a whole night making love to me. He wouldn't allow a relationship in his life, and I wasn't willing to settle for less.

But something had changed between us in the past couple of days. Since he got back from his mission, even before he collapsed, he was different. He was waiting in my apartment for me Wednesday night when I got home with Stan, and there must have been a reason for that. He came right to my place, he said, before even going home. And he told me he needed to hold me. He was hurt and he came to me for comfort.

I knew now that I loved him with my entire heart and soul. I hadn't been able to tell him yet, but maybe I could _show_ him. I wondered if it would hurt him if I was real careful. All things in moderation, right?

We got to the bedroom and I pulled the comforter down to the foot of the bed and turned the sheet back while Ranger watched.

"Sit," I said, pointing to the edge of the bed. He complied, and I knelt down and slipped the black leather moccasins off his bare feet. It was strange not seeing him in boots, but the moccasins were what Tank brought to the hospital for Ranger to wear home with his clean cargoes and t-shirt. I guess it was because they were easy to get on and off and he didn't have to bend over to tie them.

I took a foot in both of my hands and massaged it for a minute before lifting it up and brushing my lips over the top. Ranger made a sound deep in his throat, something between a growl and a whimper, when my mouth touched him, so I repeated the process with the other foot, this time lingering, my tongue snaking up along his ankle. Glancing up I saw that he was leaning back on his hands, eyes closed, head tipped backward exposing his throat. I watched the muscles there work as he swallowed, and I knew I was going to do this, show him that I loved him. Even if he couldn't or wouldn't have a relationship with me, I wasn't going to let him send me away again. I was his, whether he wanted it or not. And he was mine.

Rising to my feet in front of him I grasped the bottom hem of his t-shirt on each side, taking care not to bump his injury. "Arms up," I instructed and pulled the t-shirt off over his head.

Omigod, that chest! I couldn't tear my eyes away from it. In spite of the weight he'd lost, it was still the most beautiful piece of human anatomy I'd ever seen. I wished I were an artist so I could capture it in pencil or paint, memorialize it forever and make it my own. You'd think after a day and a half of being cuddled into it in the hospital I'd be getting used to it by now, but I didn't think the sight of it would ever fail to move me, even if I saw it every day for the rest of my life.

"Babe." The wolf-grin appeared on his face, and I felt a flush of relief. This was the Ranger I knew and could deal with. "Now it's your turn," he said, reaching for my shirt.

"Uh, uh," I said, taking a step back. His hands released me and the disappointment on his face was so comical that I couldn't control a giggle. "I just don't want you to stretch or move around too much today. I'll do it."

I crossed my arms in front of me, grabbed the bottom of my shirt on opposite sides, and pulled it off over my head.

My amusement melted away, replaced by lust as his eyes sizzled over me, scorching in their intensity, infinite in their depth. "The bra, too," he instructed.

My nipples were attempting to bore their way through the fabric of the RangeMan sports bra that covered them, and I repeated the crossed arms routine and stripped the bra off over my head.

Ranger's eyes went opaque and his breath gusted out so hard I felt the breeze waft across my bare breasts. When he reached out for me I stepped into him, letting his hands slide and stroke, his mouth skim and sweep.

We took our time, fingers fondling and flitting, tongues teasing and titillating. After an eon of touching and kissing, I whispered, "Lie down," and Ranger reclined on the bed. Clambering up next to his good side, I took time and care in removing his cargoes, and the vision of his length springing free inspired me to lascivious licks and greedy gulps.

"Babe," he groaned, reaching for my waistband, "I need you."

"Just stay still." I pushed back off the bed and yanked my pants and panties down together, kicking them aside.

Ranger's clever fingers danced and drove inside me as soon as I crawled back to him, and the first orgasm cascaded and coursed, quivering through my flesh, making my pulse pound and my heart hammer.

Instead of letting me come down, Ranger took me back up, probing and plunging until I spun over the second summit.

The third time came as I lowered myself onto him, his thickness stretching me to a breathless burst of punishing pleasure, making me cry out his name, "Rangerrrrr."

He tensed and stilled as I pulsed around him, his dark eyes imprisoning mine until I thought I'd drown in the bottomless abyss.

And then he began to move, just a little, gliding in and out through my soaking slickness until my whole system shimmered with him. I began lifting and lowering to meet him and the pace built until we were careening uncontrolled toward detonation.

And then it erupted, ripping out my guts and turning me inside out. Ranger's hoarse cry mingled with my own as we rode the crest together, taut and throbbing, shuddering and surging.

Taking care even in my mindless state to avoid his wounded side, I collapsed on top of him.

And we slept.

_TBC_


	14. Chapter 14

**Senior Prom 14**

Tap, tap, tap.

"Excuse me, Ranger, I'm sorry to disturb you but I just wanted you to know I'm leaving your dinner in the kitchen."

I jerked awake, still half on top of Ranger. It was almost dark in the bedroom, but light from the hallway poured in, gleaming on Ranger's mocha latte chest. My eyes traveled down to my shoulder and the curve of my bare hip, glowing white against his darkness. Omigod! We were both naked!

And Ella was standing just outside the wide-open bedroom door, still talking.

"You probably should eat it soon, while it's still warm. It won't be as good reheated."

I reached down for the sheet, grateful that it was covering my ass, barely, and pulled it up over my shoulders. I kept my face buried in Ranger's neck. Maybe Ella wouldn't recognize me. Omigod, I could never face her again.

She was still talking.

"I left a protein shake in the refrigerator for you to drink before bedtime. You need some extra nourishment to build you up and help you put some weight back on."

I squirmed with embarrassment. Ranger's chest was shaking beneath me and his arms were steel surrounding me, binding me to him. Omigod, he was _laughing!_

"Stephanie, dear, please make sure Ranger eats. He's terribly thin."

I opened my mouth to tell her I'd try, but nothing came out except a mouse-like squeak that I hoped Ella would take as agreement.

"Thank you, Ella," Ranger said, his voice deep and gravelly with sleep.

"You're welcome, dear. Enjoy your dinner and get lots of rest."

We lay silent and still until we heard the click of the apartment door closing behind Ella. Then I rolled off Ranger with a groan. I lay there on my back beside him, clutching the sheet to my breasts like some kind of protective armor, glad it was dark enough that he couldn't see my flaming face. How humiliating, being caught naked in bed by Ella!

He had an arm under my neck and he crooked it to pull me back against him. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about, Babe."

Sure, look on the bright side. We could have been right in the middle of the act instead of sated and sleeping. It could have been worse. It could have been my mother. Omigod, just the thought of it caused the panic to rise up from my gut into my throat like ocean waves crashing on a rocky coast.

And then my stomach growled.

A short laugh from Ranger turned into a cough and I jerked my head up to study his face. There wasn't enough light to really see him, so I sat up, still holding the sheet like a shield over my nakedness and clicked on the bedside lamp.

I studied his face. "Are you okay?" I asked.

Instead of answering he crushed his mouth over mine, pressing me back down onto the bed and rising up over me, his weight on his forearms. I floated away in the sweet taste of him, inhaling his masculine scent and sucking in his warm breath as if it could make him a part of me.

"I'm way better than okay," he murmured as the kiss ended.

"You can say that again," I muttered, dazed.

Then my stomach growled a second time.

"Come on, Babe, let's give the hungry tiger some sustenance," Ranger said, swinging easily out of bed and tugging on my hand until I followed.

I was still clutching the sheet to my breast, although I have no idea why. Ranger's seen me naked, more than once. Hell, one of the very first times he saw me after we met I was handcuffed naked to the shower rod. But tonight I was feeling just a little insecure about our so-called relationship. I tried to show him I loved him instead of telling him, but I'm not sure he got the message.

I threw the sheet over my shoulder like a toga, wrapped it tight around me, and sat down on the closed toilet seat, watching while Ranger got the shower going and pulled extra towels out of the linen closet. His activity was fluid and relaxed as he moved around the bathroom, naked and beautiful and not a bit self-conscious about it. I wondered whether I could ever be so comfortable in my own skin, even if I had the most perfect body in the world. I doubted it. Guilt over physical pleasures had been ingrained in me at an early age by my family and the Church. Something that fundamental was almost impossible to overcome, I suspected.

Ranger stood in front of the mirror watching himself as he unwrapped the white bandages from around his waist. He removed the blood-stained gauze pads that were taped over his injury and looked down at the stitches.

I tensed and looked, too. For all the blood that had poured out onto my bedroom floor—I shivered again at the thought—the wound was surprisingly small. It was only about three inches long, with perhaps 15 black stitches holding it together. It was clean, innocuous against all that tantalizing flesh, and I found myself licking my dry lips as I studied Ranger in the mirror.

He walked out of the room and came back a moment later with a plastic sandwich bag. He cut the zip-lock top off with scissors, pulled a roll of wide plastic tape from a drawer and did a quick, efficient job of taping the bag over his stitches.

"Gee, you're good at that," I said, trying to take my mind off his divine body. "Practically professional."

"A professional is just an amateur who didn't quit," Ranger said. "I'm a lot better at it than I used to be. Years of practice."

Was that a subtle reminder to me that his life didn't lend itself to relationships?

"Come on, Babe," Ranger said. "Shower time." He pulled me to my feet and pushed me toward the steam billowing from the shower, his hand gripping the edge of the sheet that wrapped me.

I stopped at the shower door and turned to face him. Staring into the dark depths of his eyes, I dropped the sheet.

_TBC_


	15. Chapter 15

_WARNING: Angst. The reason Ranger's so upset.  
_

**Senior Prom 15**

Ranger might have mentioned once that he was good in the shower, but the reality of it was so much more than I could ever have imagined.

He washed me, and I washed him, and in the process we explored each other's most intimate cravings. He was insatiable, tasting, teasing, licking, biting. He kept trying to pick me up, and although I was almost delirious with need I persisted in refusing to let him, not wanting him to tear open his stitches again.

It seemed that Ranger's shower had an infinite supply of hot water, and we took full advantage of it. After some unknown time we ended up sitting on the floor of the shower with me in his lap, screaming out each other's names in ecstasy. Collapsing to our sides, we lay there on the tiles, still locked together, recovering in the deluge of warm water splashing over us.

_oOo_

We got dressed together in Ranger's dressing room. He pulled on a pair of black sweats and left his chest bare and his stitches uncovered. I dug through the small pile of my black RangeMan clothes on the bench but found only uniforms.

"Here, Babe," Ranger said, reaching into a drawer and handing me a pair of black boxers and one of his big t-shirts. I pulled them on, grateful for the soft cotton and soothing silk.

When I finished dressing, Ranger was standing in the doorway, and I waited for him to move so we could go have our dinner. He just stood there, staring at me but not really seeing me. His expression was blank, but somehow I knew his thoughts were far away, and not in a good place.

"Ranger?" I kept my voice soft. His expression didn't change but his eyes focused on me. "Come on, let's go eat."

I reached for his hand, marveling at how it swallowed up my own, and he moved and let me lead him to the kitchen. There were two covered plates sitting on the counter, and I removed the cover from one, testing the temperature with a finger.

"Sit down and let me just warm these up a little," I said, gesturing to the breakfast bar and sticking the first plate into the microwave. I got out silverware and napkins while it warmed and then placed the plate in front of Ranger. "Water?" I asked as the second plate was warming, and at his nod got us each a bottle from the refrigerator.

I took the stool to his left, saying, "You need to eat, Ranger," and he picked up his fork and began. I was starved, and tore into my dinner like a lion out in the Serengeti ripping meat off the bones of a fresh kill. It was a healthy meal of grilled chicken, brown rice and steamed vegetables, but like everything Ella prepared it was delicious. I kept shoveling the food in until my plate was empty.

In spite of my concentration on eating, I noticed Ranger was just picking at his plate, and when I laid down my fork he laid his down too, his plate still half full. This wasn't good.

I stood and swiveled his stool around until he was facing me, keeping my focus on his face to avoid being distracted by the well defined hills and valleys of that beautiful bare chest. "You didn't finish your dinner," I said.

"I don't want any more," he said, not quite meeting my eyes.

I stepped between his legs and put my hand under his chin, forcing him to look at me. A flash of bleakness was instantaneously covered by blankness, and then as I continued to hold his gaze, by warmth.

I released his face and picked up his fork, scooping up some rice and offering it to him. He opened his mouth with the instinct of a baby bird receiving food from its mother's beak, although lacking the eagerness. But he accepted the rice, chewing, and swallowing, his eyes never leaving mine.

Sliding the plate closer to me, I cut the chicken into bite-sized pieces and captured his eyes again as I resumed feeding him, bite of chicken, bite of vegetables, bite of rice, until the plate was empty.

Ranger remained on the stool and sipped his water, his eyes following me as I rinsed the dishes and stuck them in the dishwasher. My mind was buzzing, busy considering and discarding options for making Ranger feel better. More sex wasn't the answer. That might take his mind off his troubles for the moment, but it wouldn't ease the mental anguish that had been so apparent since he got back, in spite of his attempts to conceal it.

Job completed, counter wiped clean, decision made, I walked back around the breakfast bar. It was time to find out what was bothering Ranger, and I was just the woman for the job.

"Come on." I took his hand again, led him to the couch, and pushed on his shoulders until he sat down. Stepping between his legs I seated myself on the coffee table facing him, my knees pressing lightly against the insides of his thighs.

"Talk to me, Ranger. Tell me what's wrong."

"There's nothing wrong," his mouth said, but his eyes belied the statement.

I leaned in, putting my hands on his knees. "You've never lied to me before. Don't start now. It's obvious that something is very wrong, and I need you to tell me what it is."

His face was an expressionless mask as he said, "I can't talk about it. It's classified."

"You don't have to tell me who or when or where, or any of those other top secret details. Just tell me what happened to hurt you so much."

"I can't. And I don't want to talk about it." He wasn't looking at me anymore; he was looking through me at something far, far away, and his complete lack of expression and dead eyes sent a little chill through me.

"Ranger." I made my tone sharp to snap him out of it, to bring him back to me from whatever hopeless place he was in. When I could tell he was seeing me again I climbed into his lap, my weight on my knees on each side of him, and grasped his face in both hands.

"Tell me." I tried to show all the love I felt for him in my eyes, wanting him to know that I was here for him, no matter what.

He tried to hold out, but after a moment his face crumpled, the flatness that he'd been trying to maintain replaced by agony, pure and simple.

"They threw me away." He spoke in a monotone, although his breathing was ragged. "They were finished with me, and they sent me out to die. They didn't even respect me enough to have me taken out. They just delivered me into the arms of the enemy, expecting it to be the end of me. And it very nearly was."

He put his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, inconsolable, and all I could do was hold him, try to give him comfort with my support, with my embrace, with my love.

After a long time he straightened up again, his abiding, self-contained presence reasserting itself. "Well," he said, "it's finished. I'm finished."

My mind was working to digest his words, and a concern popped out. "Are you in danger now? Since you made it home? Will they try to…?" I couldn't say it, but he knew what I meant.

"No. There was a thorough debriefing when I got out of the hospital." He read my mind and answered my question before I asked it. "The military hospital, where they stitched me up the first time. A few heads rolled for what happened to me, and then I was cut loose. For good."

He leaned his head back on the couch and closed his eyes. My hands dropped from his face to his shoulders.

I understood now why he seemed so lost. "Tell me what you're feeling."

He kept his eyes closed, perhaps looking inside himself for the answer. "…Betrayed." He exhaled. "…Angry." His breath caught as he sucked it in. "…Alone."

My heart hurt for him. "You've still got people who care about you, who need you. And you still have backup. Tank, Lester, Bobby, all your men…"

His eyes opened, but he kept his head back, staring at someplace far beyond the room we sat in. "The opposite of loneliness… it's not togetherness. It's intimacy."

"Well then, you've got me."

Ranger's eyes rocketed back to mine, and the heat in them blew straight through me, incinerating the compassionate ache in my chest and replacing it with an inferno of desire. Without a word he stood, lifting me with him, and before I could get my mouth open to warn him about pulling his stitches again, I was flat on my back in his bed and he was lowering himself onto me.

_TBC_


	16. Chapter 16

_WARNING: More angst, but this is the last of it, I promise.  
_

**Senior Prom 16**

I did remember eventually about the protein shake in the fridge, and I brought it to Ranger in bed, sitting next to him cross-legged and making sure he drank the whole thing. I watched that smooth, brown throat flex with each swallow, and the sight pierced me, drenched me with a combination of love and lust and longing, so mixed up together that I didn't really know what I was feeling. I wanted to lap him up like cream.

Something of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because Ranger observed me over the rim of the glass as he finished drinking, and his eyes darkened to obsidian. The t-shirt I was wearing was gone in the twinkling of an eye and his mouth was on me, all over me.

"Stop," I gasped through the deluge of sensation. "Wait." I pushed on his shoulders until he finally backed off, panting, his mouth open and his eyes opaque. "Lie down. You've done too much already tonight. It's my turn."

He lay back on the bed, putting his arms up and clasping his hands behind his head. His throat moved as he swallowed, drawing my eyes back to his neck. A good place to start, I thought, as my lips descended.

_oOo_

I woke up alone and naked in Ranger's huge bed, the sheet twisted and tangled around me. I was shocked to see by the bedside clock that it was ten-thirty already. But we hadn't collapsed into exhausted slumber until the wee hours of the morning, so I'd really only had about six hours of sleep.

I straightened the sheet out enough to wrap around me and hit the bathroom to take care of business first. After a quick brush of my teeth and a struggle getting my hair tamed down enough to put into a ponytail, I slipped on Ranger's plush terry robe and wandered out into the kitchen in search of him.

No sign of him.

I checked the whole apartment, living room, office, even the powder room. No Ranger.

There was a pot of coffee in an insulated carafe in the kitchen, so I poured a cup, fixing it with half-and-half and sugar the way I liked it. Next to the coffee was a plate of muffins, and I grabbed one. Ella must have brought in supplies when she found out I was here.

I settled on the couch with my coffee, muffin and phone, punching speed dial for Ranger's cell. He probably went down to the office to start on his paperwork, since he'd been away on the mission and then in the hospital.

No answer.

I left a message. "Hey, it's me. Give me a call."

Then I sat and thought, my mind working at double speed considering and rejecting scenarios. His phone battery died. No, never. Not Ranger, master planner of the universe. His battery would never dare.

He was in a meeting. I really doubted it. It was Saturday, and he just got out of the hospital.

He was driving in traffic and couldn't take his hand off the wheel to answer. Not likely. And he wasn't supposed to drive for a week, until he saw the doctor again. Not that that would stop Ranger if he wanted to drive, but…

He'd hurt himself again and they had to take him back to the hospital. I squelched my instant panic. No, not that. They would have come and gotten me. Tank would have called. Somebody would have let me know.

Then my conjectures turned darker. He'd realized having sex with me was a big mistake and he had to get away so I wouldn't hang all over him. He hated that I'd forced him to reveal his hurt to me, and he never wanted to face me again.

Shit, just call someone, I told myself, pushing down the pain that tried to well up in my heart. There's no point in getting all upset over things that probably didn't happen. I dialed Tank.

Tank's deep voice came on the line. "Bombshell, you must have read my mind. I was just about to call you."

My heart stuttered. "What? Is there something wrong with Ranger? Where is he?"

"He's in the gym, and you'd better come down. Now."

I dropped my coffee and muffin onto the breakfast bar and raced into the bedroom to throw on the RangeMan uniform I'd worn home from the hospital yesterday. In two minutes flat I was running down the stairs to the gym, my handbag banging against my side and my key fob in my hand.

Bursting through the gym door, I came to an abrupt halt as Tank caught me by the waist, swinging me around to dispel my forward momentum and then setting me on my feet. My eyes sought and found Ranger, in the corner of the room pounding on the heavy bag. He was wearing nothing but a pair of long basketball type shorts. His hands and feet were wrapped in tape and an Ace bandage encircled his waist.

Bobby was standing to one side, his mouth moving as he talked to Ranger, but Ranger seemed to be ignoring him, his entire concentration focused on the big bag. Right, right, left… Pause… Left, right, left, kick… Pause… Kick, right, right… And on and on in random patterns.

Ranger appeared to be exhausted, and as he swayed between punching patterns I saw the red stain seeping through the bandage.

"Bobby's trying to get him to stop," Tank said, keeping his voice soft. "Let's give him a minute."

"No," I said, already starting across the room. "Let me talk to him."

As I approached Ranger paused and rotated his shoulders, as if shrugging off an insect. I saw the shiver work its way up his spine. He knew I was behind him.

His voice came, hoarse and deadly. "Go home, Stephanie. This is no place for you."

I circled around him until I could see his face, making my voice gentle and soothing, "Ranger, you've done enough for this morning. It's time to go back upstairs."

His response was to resume punching the bag. Left, left, right, kick, kick… Pause…

"Ranger," I said again.

"Didn't you hear me?" he gritted out. "Go away. I don't want you here."

Tank and Lester came up beside me, and Bobby stood on Ranger's opposite side. In spite of the four of us, his best friends surrounding him, Ranger was the epitome of isolation, nothing around him having any influence on him, all his attention fixed on that bag. Kick, right, left… Pause… Left, left, kick, right…

"Look at me and tell me to leave, and I will," I said.

Ranger stopped punching and turned his head toward me, his eyes bottomless wells of emptiness. He looked right through me. "Go home, Stephanie."

I reached out a hand toward him, my eyes filled with tears, my voice choked with them. "Ranger. Please."

His expression remained flat, his eyes empty voids as he turned and took a step toward me. "Go," he said in that flat voice. "Go home. Take the Turbo if you need a car. Just get out of here."

He looked at me, but I didn't think he really saw me. He started walking toward me, his fists clenched. If his body matched his eyes, he'd probably move right through me. I stepped aside and Tank and Lester closed protective ranks around me.

I stood there in the gym and watched Ranger walk away, out the door, and then my knees gave way and I would have fallen if Tank hadn't grabbed me. I buried my face in his chest and sobbed, heartbroken.

Tank wrapped me up in his arms and let me cry, murmuring, "It's okay, Bombshell. He didn't mean it. It'll be okay," until my sobs quieted.

"Will you take me home, Tank?" I asked, still tearful.

"Of course."

_oOo_

I sat in the front seat of Tank's Hummer. The sobs had stopped, but tears still poured down my cheeks, dripping onto the front of my black RangeMan shirt. Maybe this was the last time I would ever wear Ranger's name on my body.

As we pulled into my parking lot, I looked at my window and thought about Ranger's blood on the floor of my bedroom. I couldn't go up there. "I've changed my mind," I said to Tank. "I want to go to Mary Lou's."

When we were halfway there my cell phone rang out the Batman theme. I turned it off.

_TBC_


	17. Chapter 17

**Senior Prom 17**

When I was a little girl back in the early eighties I loved disco music. I thought the BeeGees were dreamy, and Mary Lou and I taught ourselves to dance to their songs. Of course true disco was already dead at the time, and we soon moved on to the girl dance hits like "I Will Survive," "I'm So Excited" and "It's Raining Men."

Being at Grandma's senior prom was like being stuck in a disco time warp, and as I stood behind the refreshment table with Stan Holloway I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. When the DJ put on "Staying Alive" and all the little old blue-haired ladies and pot-bellied, bald-headed men broke into the Travolta Saturday Night Fever dance moves I had to excuse myself to the ladies' room. Mary Lou met me there and we clutched each other, tears of laughter rolling down our cheeks.

It had been a struggle, but thanks to Mary Lou, lots of girl talk, and a trip to the mall I was feeling better.

_oOo_

Tank had dropped me off at Mary Lou's just before lunchtime, and I cried my way into her kitchen, the whole story splashing out of me with my tears. Mary Lou held me and patted my back and finally guided me into a chair.

"Omigod, you slept with Ranger?" No sooner had I sat down at the kitchen table than she pulled open her freezer, rummaging around and coming up with a half gallon of ice cream.

"Yeah." I sighed and mopped tears from my cheeks. "I wanted to tell him I love him, but I just couldn't say it."

Mary Lou opened a drawer and pulled out two tablespoons. "And…?"

I took the tablespoon she handed me and dug out a hunk of heavenly hash. It's in the Burg Girl Rule Book that the crying party gets the first bite. "I thought if I couldn't tell him, I could show him, so…" I pushed the ice cream across the table and shoved the big spoon into my mouth.

Mary Lou took the carton and began digging around the edges with her spoon, loosening up the contents to make it easier to get. "So how was it? Is he, like, really, uh… skilled?"

"You wouldn't believe it," I told her. "Mad skills."

She fanned herself, took some ice cream and passed the carton back to me. "How many times?"

I kept my eyes on the chunk of chocolaty goodness I was scooping up. "I don't know. I lost track."

"Oh… my… effing… God!" I glanced up and Mary Lou's mouth was open and her eyes were glazed over.

"Yeah."

A crafty look came over her face. "Tell me exactly what Ranger said to you in the gym," she ordered. "His exact words."

"He told me to go home, to go away, that he didn't want me there."

"He was upset, right?"

"That's putting it mildly. He was… wild, almost feral."

"Did he say he didn't love you?"

"Well, no…"

"Did he say he didn't want to see you later?"

"No…"

"And he tried to call you right away, right?"

"Maybe…"

"Lenny!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

Lenny was out back with their boys playing catch, but at Mary Lou's screech he came lumbering up the back steps and plowed into the kitchen. "What's the matter, Sweet Cheeks?"

"I need you to get lunch for the boys. I have to take Steph to the mall."

_oOo_

So here I was at the prom in a glamorous sheath dress in glittery black, the clingy style enhancing my curves. The deep v-neckline showed off my assets, considerably augmented by a black push-up bra from Victoria's Secret. And the just-above-the knee hemline drew attention to my legs, their shapeliness boosted by black strappy sandals with four-inch heels.

Mary Lou spent an hour putting my hair up in a sophisticated twist with curly tendrils framing my face, and another half hour applying makeup with such skill that you could hardly tell I was wearing any. I looked great, and I felt pretty good. I refused to let myself think about Ranger or any of what had happened between us the past three days. Deny, deny, deny, credo of the Burg girl. So what if I didn't have anyplace to sleep tonight.

Stan's mouth dropped open when I walked through the door of the Elks Lodge, and he came straight across the ballroom to me.

"Steph, sweetie, words fail me," he said, taking both of my hands in both of his and kissing my fingers. "Your beauty takes my breath away."

"Thanks, Stan." I looked him up and down. "You're not so bad yourself."

That was an understatement. Stan in a tux was mouth watering.

He kept hold of my hand and led me across the room to the refreshment table. We stood together, serving cups of punch and passing out little crustless triangle sandwiches and homemade cookies, taking turns going back into the kitchen to replenish the food and drink. Stan was warm and witty, and I enjoyed chatting with him in between ladling out punch for the seniors.

About halfway through the evening Grandma, resplendent in sparkling red sequins, came over, dragging a small, skinny-yet-pot-bellied man with a shock of white hair bristling out in all directions and the cummerbund of his tux up high enough to support his droopy man-boobs. "Stephanie, I'd like you to meet Ernie. He has an apartment in the Hooper Building." A well known senior domicile.

Grandma pulled me down to the end of the table, leaving Ernie to make small talk with Stan. "I'm going to Ernie's place for a nightcap after the dance," she said in what was, to her, a soft voice. I thought she must be getting a bit hard of hearing, and like many of the seniors she talked extra loud to make up for it.

"Looks like I'm going to get lucky," she continued, opening her small evening bag to reveal about a dozen condoms in brightly-colored wrappers. "I brought one of every flavor." Wa-aay too much information.

Ernie glanced toward us and smiled at Grandma. I didn't think there was anything wrong with his hearing.

"Did you mention it to Mom?" I asked, hoping that I wasn't going to be the one to break the news that would send her straight home to the ironing board and the Jack Daniels.

"Yup. She's not very happy," Grandma gave me a little wink, "but I'm expecting enough happy to make up for it."

As the end of the evening drew near, Stan turned to me. "I think the refreshment business is dying down. How about a dance?"

I nodded. Why not? I was a free woman, no commitments, no prospects. The thought gave me a hollow feeling in my chest.

Stan spun me out onto the dance floor, holding me close. I leaned into him, resting my cheek on his shoulder. He was a really great guy, I thought, nice, smart, a hard worker. And Burg, don't forget that. My mother would be thrilled if I started going out with him. And his son… Instant grandson. Dad would probably be pleased, too.

I'm looking too desperately, I thought. It was probably best to swear off men for a while. My heart was still raw with Ranger's rejection, and it wasn't the right time to take up with someone new.

As we returned to the refreshment table hand in hand after our dance I said to Stan, "Do you think we should start cleaning up now?"

But I didn't hear his answer. A shiver worked its way up my spine, raising all the little hairs on the back of my neck. My arms broke out into goosebumps and my heart thundered like tympani drums.

Only one person made me feel this way. I yanked my hand out of Stan's, whirled around and strained to see through the crowd on the dance floor.

_TBC_


	18. Chapter 18

**Senior Prom 18**

The crowd parted and there was Ranger, standing in the doorway, his eyes fixed on me. His hair was loose, just touching his shoulders, and he was wearing a black tux with a snowy white shirt. Ranger in a tux is the picture of perfection. He made Stan look like the poor cousin from Podunk.

He started across the room, his eyes holding me captive, and I moved out from behind the refreshment table and floated toward him, drawn as if by a magnet. I don't think my feet were even touching the floor as his force field sucked me in.

We met in the middle of the dance floor, and his arms went around me.

"Dance with me, Babe?" he asked as we started to move together, but the question was irrelevant since we were already dancing. His arms were steel bands holding me tight to his chest, and his breath whispered through my hair and tickled my ear.

"Stephanie," he said after a moment. "I'm sorry."

I looked up into his eyes and I could see he meant it, and what it cost him to say it. Batman didn't apologize.

I asked the question that had been plaguing me ever since he'd ordered me out of the gym, out of the building, out of his life. "Why?"

"It's hard to explain," he said.

"Try." I cupped his cheek in my hand and held his eyes.

"I will," he said, "but I need to be alone with you. I can't, here in the middle of this crowd. Can we just dance for now?"

I considered it. He'd been shitty and I felt awkward. But despite the agony he caused me this morning, I loved him. Whether I could forgive him or not depended on him—on what he was willing to give to keep us together. Otherwise I'd walk away. The thought made my heart ache, but that's the way it had to be.

He was watching me, reading my thoughts as we swirled around the dance floor, and he used his hand to draw my head onto his shoulder, my face into his neck. "I love you, Babe," he breathed into my ear, "and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you."

I inhaled, and the scent of him filled me, cutting clear to my heart. He flooded me, saturated me, drenched me, leaving me breathless, gasping for air.

I pulled my head away from his neck and sucked in oxygen, and his mouth found mine. It was hot, a fire banked inside his mouth, and the taste of him satisfied me as no one else ever had before or would again.

We weren't dancing anymore. We stood there, in the middle of the dance floor, as if we were the only two people in the room, in the universe, our mouths locked together in a mating of lips and tongues. Ranger was hard against me, and I plastered myself to him, need rearing up and pummeling me. The past, the future—none of it mattered anymore. All I knew was that we belonged together, no matter what.

"Stephanie Plum," my mother's voice penetrated the fog of passion that enveloped me. Ranger's lips released mine and I blinked back to awareness. "You stop that right now. Everyone's watching, and what you're doing isn't proper."

"Don't listen to her," Grandma chirped. "But you might want to go find a bed before you start doing the mambo right here in the middle of the dance floor."

"Sorry, Mom," I croaked, my voice froggy.

"Let's get out of here, Babe," Ranger rasped, his voice as bad as mine.

"But…" I looked over at the refreshment table and saw Mary Lou and Lenny standing with Stan. Mary Lou gave me a shooing gesture and she didn't have to wave twice. I turned back to Ranger and he swooped me out the door and into the Turbo, parked curbside right in front.

"Where are you taking me?" I asked as he rammed the car through the gears, accelerating so fast that I was pinned back in the seat.

"I'm imagining a dark lit place with a bed, but it's up to you. Your place or my place?"

"You owe me an explanation," I said, "and I need to hear it before I can decide." My hormones wanted us to go straight to Haywood and his bed, but my mind was aware enough to realize I had to know the why of his cruelty to me before I could be with him.

Ranger screeched the Porsche into a u-turn, flinging me up against the door, and swung down a side street toward downtown. In three minutes he was parked at the curb in front of the little sandwich shop where we first met, helping me out of the car. The café was deserted except for a tired-looking waitress in a faded pink uniform with a white collar and white cuffs on her short sleeves, wiping the counter with a damp rag.

"We're closing," she said.

Ranger escorted me to the back booth, the same one we sat in a lifetime ago. He seated me facing the mirrored wall and I watched as his reflection walked back to the waitress, reaching into its pocket and peeling bills off a thick roll.

By the time Ranger was settled across from me, the waitress, whose nametag proclaimed "Harriet," was back with two mugs of coffee, asking, "Pie?"

"Lemon meringue," I said, having already spotted it in the glass-fronted dessert case.

"Sir?" Harriet questioned.

"Nothing."

After Harriet bustled off, Ranger looked at me with steamy eyes and said, "I'll be having my pie later."

I shook off the desire that threatened to take me over and waited for him to convince me to go home with him.

_TBC_


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Woo-hoo, didn't have to stay overnight at mil's so I've got internet. Here's the last chapter. Thanks so very, VERY much to everyone who's reviewed and blessed me with so many kind words. Love you, babes!_

**Senior Prom 19**

I fixed my eyes on Ranger, trying to show the love I felt, now tempered with the ache and uncertainty that his words of this morning had planted in me.

He spoke first. "What your eyes can do to me, Babe. The first time I looked into your eyes, remember? Right here in this very spot. You caught me by surprise. I fell in, and as hard as I tried I've never been able to climb back out. I seem to be struck by you, enchanted. I'm your prisoner, and I don't think I'll ever be free again."

"Then tell me, make me understand how you could be so cruel to me this morning. Why, Ranger? Why did you kick me out?"

His forehead furrowed with sadness. "My head hasn't been right these last few days, since I got back. It's going to take me some time to move past it. And the way I deal with pain is by pushing myself, whether it's on a mission, working, or in the gym. That's what I was doing this morning."

I nodded. It had been obvious. "And…" I prompted.

"Ever since I was a snot-nosed little gang wannabe, running drugs and smoking shit just to prove I could, I haven't been afraid of anything. No fear of consequences, no fear of personal danger, no fear of death. It's what made me so good at what I did for the military."

He rubbed the wrinkles out of his forehead with the heel of his hand. "Until I met you, Babe. Then I knew what fear was. When you fell out of Stiva's cupboard…" He closed his eyes for a second. "When we found your tracker and panic button in that parking garage after Scrog took you…" He sucked in a deep breath. "Every time your car disappears from the tracking grid…" His eyes went blind, looking inward. "Fear has become an unwelcome guest, dropping in when I least expect it."

Harriet the waitress appeared and placed a large slice of lemon meringue pie in front of me, then vanished back into the kitchen, leaving us alone in the diner.

"When you walked into the gym this morning," Ranger continued, "I was so out of control that your presence shook me all the way to my bones. I was scared shitless that I was going to hurt you. As many times as I've felt fear for your safety, today for the first time ever, the danger came from me." His voice broke. "It tore at my guts, even worse than the feeling of being tossed aside by the military. I had to get you away from me, fast, so I lashed out."

"Ranger," I choked out, unable to say more than that single word without collapsing under the weight of his grief and pain.

His eyes dropped to his cup of coffee, and he brought it to his lips before forcing his gaze back to mine. "It was wrong, and it won't happen again. I won't let it. I promise."

My heart melted and I reached out and took his large hand in both of mine.

"Stephanie," he continued, "in our relationship, the life I hope to have with you, there are bound to be disagreements, fights. I can't promise never again to speak in anger. And I may not always be in complete control. But I give you my word that I'll never harm you. And I'll never send you away again."

Tears filled my eyes, and as hard as I blinked to hold them in, one dripped out and ran down my cheek.

"Let's go," I said, pushing my untouched piece of pie aside.

_oOo_

Ranger carried me up all seven flights of stairs at Haywood, huge and hard against my center, my arms and legs wrapped around him. My dress hit the floor just inside the door of the apartment, and my bra followed it as we passed the kitchen.

He caught the side of my thong with a thumb and finger and tore it off as he dropped me onto his bed, then stepped back and surveyed me, lying there naked except for black, lace-topped thigh-highs and the four-inch strappy sandals.

"Ranger." I held my arms out and spread my legs, opening myself to him. "I need you."

His mouth was open, his breath coming in quick gasps, and his eyes were black holes. He dropped his jacket on the floor, yanked his bowtie off, and ripped the front of his shirt open, buttons flying in all directions. His pants joined his jacket on the floor and he was upon me, all ravenous mouth and fast rough hands.

The first time was frenzied and ferocious, a primitive mating punctuated by the slap of skin on skin, the clash of teeth on teeth, the suck of flesh on flesh, pulses pounding to animalistic gratification.

When we were both shattered and empty, Ranger rolled us, still joined, so that I lay lax as liquid over his chest. I nuzzled into his neck, my tongue sliding through the sweat-saltiness, and he expanded and filled me again.

The second time was slow and sensual, a long, lilting lift up a soft slope. The arch of my hip to meet him, the tremble of his thighs as he strained to hold back, the quick flash of passion in my gaze, his fathomless eyes— every look, every move built us higher and higher until we slipped over the precipice together in flawless harmony.

Later, Ranger rolled us again, a glimmer in his eye, and said, "It's time for my pie, Babe."

My heart stumbled and stuttered as his mouth moved over me, tasting and taking, driving me ever upward until I crashed over the edge with a long, low wail. And then he filled me again, immersing me in an infinite galaxy of bliss until I took flight.

_oOo_

"Ranger," I murmured, replete and ready to drop off to sleep but needing to tell him at last how I felt about him.

"Hmmm?" he answered, his chest rumbling under my cheek.

"There's something I've been trying to tell you ever since you came back."

"What, Babe?"

I took a deep breath and braced myself, my heart jogging. "I love you. I've been in love with you for a long time."

"I know, Babe. I love you, too."

Huh? He knew?

"I heard you telling Joe in your apartment that night he found us together, before I passed out. I heard it all."

"You did?"

"Yeah, I did. And the first time you told me, in the ambulance, I tried so hard to answer you, but I was too far out of it."

"You were unconscious. I didn't think you could hear me."

"I heard. And the second time, in the ICU after my surgery, I was just drifting off to sleep. But that time might have been a dream."

"It wasn't," I said. "So you heard me every time?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I was afraid you didn't know."

"I knew, Babe. I know."

I snuggled up against him and relaxed. Just as I was dropping into slumber Ranger spoke again, low and husky and affectionate. "Will you do something for me?"

"What?"

"Keep telling me you love me every day for the rest of our lives. And I'll keep telling you."

And we did.

_The End_


End file.
